


Tumblr Flash Fiction

by uraneia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anniversary, BAMF Stiles, Failwolf, Flash Fic, Humor, M/M, Pornstars, Tumblr Prompt, Voyeurism, oneshots, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2013-07-11
Packaged: 2017-12-13 06:05:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/820873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uraneia/pseuds/uraneia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Tumblr oneshots.</p><p>1. Hunters have captured Stiles and are threatening to burn him at the stake. Really <i>stupid</i> hunters.</p><p>2. Tuition is expensive, so Stiles and Derek are doing porn. But Derek can't keep it together.</p><p>3. It's Derek and Stiles's anniversary, but dinner doesn't go exactly like Derek planned.</p><p>4. Stiles celebrates <i>all of the anniversaries</i>. Derek can't keep up. Luckily he has a plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Walpurgis Night

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a series, just a place to post the crazy ideas I explore on Tumblr at two in the morning. [Come say hi](http://hatfulofcrazy.tumblr.com)!

Stiles is embarrassed for them.

 

For one thing, they bound his hands behind him with duct tape and didn’t even check his waistband for the pocketknife he keeps there. For another, they’ve tied him to an actual stake and plan to burn him to death. That is seriously old-school. Even without the pocketknife, Stiles could get out of this no problem. Especially since they forgot to gag him.

 

Amateurs.

 

Still, he’s not going to bother working too hard. Not unless it looks like rescue might not be forthcoming before the lead hunter tries to light the kindling.

 

“You know,” he says conversationally, squirming a little for effect, “I’m pretty sure killing a witch for performing a harmless protection spell is against the code.”

 

“Shut up,” snarls lackey number one.

 

God, they can’t even banter competently. This is depressing. Stiles rolls his eyes, tilting his head to one side. “That’s good, yeah, I feel very threatened. Hey, do you guys want some free advice?”

 

The lackeys exchange vacant glances. The leader seems to be rummaging in the back of his pedo van for lighter fluid.

 

Stiles actually winces. These poor assholes won’t know what hit them. “So I mean, yay, you got me, I’m a witch! Congratulations. I allowed you to throw a burlap sack over my head and kidnap me from the local bookstore. Probably not the smartest thing I could’ve done, but hey, it’s my birthday next week, I was thinking maybe it was a surprise party, you know?”

 

Head douche bag has finally found his accelerant, and he grunts manfully as he stomps back over from the van. “Stalling isn’t going to prolong your life, kid.”

 

Snorting, Stiles squints at the lighter fluid bottle, just enough that the cap sticks. “It’s not my life I’m concerned about here. I mean, you’ve got all the prerequisites for witch burning, right? Kerosene, big pile of dry wood, duct tape. Only it’s like you didn’t do your research, okay, because for one thing, I’m a fire witch.”

 

That’s a lie; Stiles isn’t actually tethered to a single element, but burning him to death is so not going to work at this point. Well, not unless he’s unconscious to start with, but he’s not going to give these fools ideas.

 

In the near distance, a twig snaps and something snarls.

 

“For another,” Stiles continues cheerfully, “it’s a stupid idea to poach a pack shaman if you didn’t come loaded for werewolf.” He grins, knows it’s a little bloodthirsty. “And I don’t smell any wolfsbane.”


	2. Two for the Money

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tuition's expensive, so Stiles and Derek decide to do porn. Unfortunately, Derek can't handle the cheesy porn dialogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With thanks/blame to [this post](http://xcovermyeyesx.tumblr.com/post/51208084001/waiting-for-the-top-stiles-bottom-derek-in-which) and [this addendum](http://jerakeenc.tumblr.com/post/51383766077/xcovermyeyesx-waiting-for-the-top-stiles).
> 
> Anyone with a suggestion for more crack can ask [here](http://hatfulofcrazy.tumblr.com/ask).

It’s all Danny’s fault.

That’s all Stiles can think as he grits his teeth and tries to ignore the fact that he is naked on camera with _Derek_ , who is _also naked._

Not that Stiles hasn’t seen him naked before, of course. Stiles has Derek naked many times, in many different positions. None of those times have been on film, though, because Stiles has a lot of kinks but exhibitionism isn’t really one of them.

It’s just that the Hale pack sort of needs to rebuild its nest egg after paying tuition for five members, and Danny has this Internet porn company now, and like hell is Stiles letting anyone else get their paws all over his territory.

Yeah, so apparently the possessive thing isn’t limited to those with lycanthropy.

“Whenever you’re ready, Stiles,” Danny says from behind the camera, long-suffering, and it’s not _fair_. It’s not Stiles’s fault Derek cracked up during the first six takes because he couldn’t handle the cheesy porn dialogue.

Whatever. Danny made the executive decision that maybe Stiles should top if Derek can’t hold it together. Stiles is fine with this. It’s not like it’s the first time, even if it is slightly unusual. Werewolf healing works on stretched muscles too—Derek takes a lot of prep, okay, and Stiles has never been known for his patience.

“Are you going to behave yourself this time?” Stiles growls—fine, says breathlessly—as he works another finger in beside the first two. “You’re not supposed to laugh.”

Derek narrows his eyes in challenge, because not once in however-long-it’s-been has Stiles failed to crack a grin during sex. He can’t help it. He gets to have sex with Derek. Sue him if that makes him happy. “Right,” he says dryly, “this is serious business.” He flexes his pecs and Stiles tries not to shudder.

That should be his clue to be on guard, but then Derek gives him a happy moan and all thought flies right out of Stiles’s head and all he can think about is that it’s time to fuck Derek, like, yesterday.

But as with the previous six takes, the gods of Internet porn have it in for him, and when he slicks up and presses the head of his dick at Derek’s asshole, it’s only to find that he’s clenched up again. _Fuck._

And then. And _then._

“Stiles,” Derek says, deadpan, reaching a hand down between them to join Stiles’s on his dick. “This no fit.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Danny says with frustration so thick Stiles can taste it.

Stiles lowers his head to Derek’s thigh and laughs.

Danny forgives them eventually, of course, because when the video finally does get finished, it becomes his number-one seller.


	3. Where There's Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [lupinus](http://macaronicap.tumblr.com)'s Tumblr prompt: "Like… Derek and Stiles celebrate their anniversary? Or maybe because it’s Derek, he attempts to make up surprise plans and fails? ;)"

Stiles comes home with half a pound of Derek’s favorite handmade licorice candies (gross) and a gift bag stuffed with the hottest new toys from Spark Plug (definitely not gross) only to find that maybe Derek has something a little more romantic in mind for this evening.

Because the apartment is covered in rose petals and there are candles everywhere, which is pretty incredible since fire is definitely still one of Derek’s hangups. It’s like a scene out of the sappiest chick flick Stiles will never admit to having seen. For a second he has trouble swallowing past the lump in his throat.

Or, you know, maybe he’s being choked by the black cloud of smoke coming from the kitchen. 

Stiles loves Derek. He really does. But under no circumstances should Derek ever be allowed within five feet of an oven or burner. And from the sounds (and smells) of things, right now? That’s exactly where he is.

Figuring Derek is probably panicking enough for the both of them, Stiles leaves his bags by the door, kicks it closed behind him, and pulls out his phone. Thirty seconds after that, he makes his way to the kitchen. “Need a hand?"

The thing about Derek is that when he cooks? He has this tendency to shed layers. So even though it’s January, he’s barefoot in jeans and a wifebeater. It’s a sight that hasn’t gotten old in three years, and Stiles doesn’t anticipate it’ll have less of an effect on him in another ten. Of course, at the moment he’s looking a little singed—he never listens no matter how many times Stiles says even werewolves need oven mitts—and a little… Stiles hesitates to use the word grumpy when there’s that much genuine disappointment underneath it.

"I turned the temperature up because it wasn’t going to be ready in time," Derek says without meeting Stiles’s eyes.

God, Stiles loves him. He grabs one healing hand and presses a kiss to the fingers. “Was that going to be lasagna?" It’s mostly a guess based on the current disastrous state of the kitchen and not the charred lump in the pan—and, okay, a little on the fact that homemade lasagna is Stiles’s absolute favorite bar none.

Derek nods.

Sometimes he’s so fucking sweet it actually hurts. "You made my favorite?" Stiles leans in and kisses him softly. “Thank you."

With a snort, Derek turns away. “For this mess?"

Fuck that. “No." Stiles reaches up with one hand and forces—well, okay, no, Derek lets him meet his eyes again. “For everything else." He gestures over his shoulder at the flickering candles. “That’s kind of a throwdown, Big Bad. You really pulled out all the stops." Stiles leans forward until their noses are touching. “You wanna know what I think?"

Derek’s almost smiling now, because this exchange between them is well-worn. “Do I have a choice?"

"No." Stiles bites at Derek’s bottom lip. “I think we have twenty-eight minutes for round one." He jumps up and gets his legs around Derek’s waist; Derek catches him automatically. 

"Twenty-eight?"

"Mmm," Stiles agrees, running his fingers backward through Derek’s hair. “I ordered pizza. Delivered in thirty minutes or it’s free." He wriggles his hips. “Tick tock."


	4. One Good Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For [24-alpha-24](http://24-alpha-24.tumblr.com)'s Tumblr prompt: Hm. I like “anniversary where you realized I was hot, dude," or “anniversary where you first wanted to bang me, dude," or “anniversary where we first kissed because you were a pushy little shit, Stiles" and “anniversary where you liked it, big guy"

"Stiles," Derek says. 

"What?"

 _Exactly_ , Derek thinks. “What is this?"

"It’s an anniversary card, dude," Stiles says, like Derek’s a complete idiot.

Which, okay. It’s obviously an anniversary card. But. “It’s not our anniversary," Derek points out a little hesitantly. He’s pretty sure. For one thing, they haven’t been together anywhere close to a year.

"I know that."

Now Derek is officially lost. He looks up from the card and over at Stiles, who’s lounging kind of sheepishly against the door. “Then why…?"

"It’s the anniversary of the day you realized I was hot."

Jesus Christ. Derek tries to fight the laugh, but it’s a lost cause. He should’ve known Stiles would want to commemorate every milestone. With sex, if the tenor of the card is any indication. “It’s really not."

Stiles narrows his eyes. “What? Yes, it totally is. A year ago today is the first time I saw you after I grew my hair out—"

Ah, crap. Derek probably could’ve done without Stiles realizing exactly how close he came to getting himself arrested. Again.

Oh well. Live and learn.

*

It really shouldn’t surprise him when there’s another “milestone" two weeks later. It definitely shouldn’t surprise him that it involves handcuffs. Stiles is nothing if not completely forthcoming about his kinks.

"Happy anniversary of the first time you wanted to bang me!" Stiles says from by the headboard.

Derek’s not stupid. He doesn’t bother correcting him, he just takes off his pants.

*

"I know this one," Derek says the next time Stiles holds out a Hallmark envelope.

"Oh yeah?" Stiles challenges with a grin, yanking the envelope away. “Come on, then, impress me."

Rolling his eyes, Derek advances, holding Stiles’s gaze. In about half a second Stiles gets distracted and forgets to keep the card away, and Derek grabs it. Then he tosses it on Stiles’s bed. “This is the anniversary of when we first kissed. Because you were a pushy little shit."

Stiles beams. “You liked it."

Derek probably shouldn’t let that go either, but fuck it. He has better things to do with his mouth than argue.

*

If that were the end of it, it would be okay. But it isn’t, and eventually Derek starts feeling guilty when he’s busy fighting trolls or whatever on the six-month anniversary of the first time they had sex in the back of the Toyota (and really, he can’t believe there was a second time, let alone a fifth, because there isn’t as much room back there as the commercials led him to believe). Something has to be done.

After much deliberation, Derek buys a card.

Stiles looks confused. “But it’s not our anniversary."

"Neither are any of the other ones."

Stiles snorts and slots his finger under the edge of the envelope. “Like you’re complaining."

"I’m not," Derek agrees. “But I feel like I’m always forgetting. There are a lot of them."

With a final rip of paper, Stiles gets the envelope open and yanks the card out. “You don’t have to—"

And then he stops and looks down.

Derek’s heart is beating way too fast considering he’s just _kneeling on the ground_ , but he still manages to keep his voice even when he holds up the ring box and says, “Maybe if there was just one?"

(They still celebrate all the other milestones with sex. Derek’s not stupid, after all.)


End file.
